Bently McQuinn Saves Literature

The next morning, Bently was roughly shaken awake and pulled out of bed. The sun wasn’t even up yet, and he was already being thrown onto a horse and they were heading out. He rode a little behind Pansy and in front of King and Meggie, who were talking quietly with each other. Bently glimpsed King passing Meggie the notebook, and he wondered if they were going to try making the ride shorter.

They rode in darkness for a while, and when the first rays of the sun had appeared from behind the mountains, Edoras and the Golden Hall were just specks in the distance. Bently was baffled.

“How have we gone so far in such short time?” he asked King, slowing down his horse a bit so he could talk to his mentor.

“I finished the passage long after you had gone to bed, and I had Meggie read it as soon as she could. I must still have a little bit of manipulative power.”

“King?”

“Yes?”

“If you’re such a great author, couldn’t you just write a new story and get those new characters to help us?”

“It would take too long,” King said simply. “Most people think you can just pull ideas out of your head and have them work instantly, but that’s not true. You have to work to get everything to cooperate properly, and if you don’t, you end up with an incomplete world like with what happened to Meyer.”

Bently moved up to talk to Pansy instead. Though, he doubted she would be much more positive.

“Hey Pansy, so you know all about what’s going on, right?”

“For the most part… I guess,” she said, squinting into the horizon.

“So… Meyer is messing up the stories, right?”

“Right.”

“So what’s wrong with this story?”

“Nothing major yet, but the timeline is pretty screwed up, I’d say.”

“Timeline?”

“Yeah. Events that happened in the first book are happening at the same time as things that aren’t supposed to take place until the third book.”

“Great. And… how did Meyer choose which books were going to be taken over? I mean, some of those characters in the Great Hall were from books I know aren’t, uh… literary merit.”

“Good point, but I thought you knew Meyer wasn’t the brightest? I don’t really know, but she probably either just picked books she knew were popular or that she liked or something along those lines.”

By mid-day, they were at the top of a valley looking down onto the plains. On their right was an enormous white city, carved right out of the mountain. But it was troubled. Bently could see even from their great distance that there were soldiers everywhere.

Eowyn and Eomer rode over to Bently, King, Pansy and Meggie. “The time has come,” said the Queen. “Bently McQuinn, everything is riding on you now. My brother and I will lead the frontal attack while Faramir and Elrond lead a sneak attack. You and your friends must make it to the very top. The vampire is in the throne room. And watch out for the fallen heroes, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. They are under his spell now.”

“Enter into the city with Faramir, then go your own ways,” Eomer added, and he road off to ready his troupes.

“Good luck, McQuinn,” said the Queen, and she turned to her warriors. “Riders!” she called out. “We have toiled much to rebuild our world after Sauron. Let us fight this new evil which has taken Gondor!”

The troops cheered in response, and the small group that was to attack in secret peeled away. Bently watched as the Queen lead the attack, her sword held proudly in front of her and some loose golden locks flying behind her in the wind.

As soon as the people of Rohan had engaged the soldiers from the city in battle, Faramir lead the group down towards another wall. “Bently,” he said. “You’re going to need to get us in. Can you—”

“Reducto!”

There was an explosion, and where wall had been, there was now a large hole, big enough for a horse and his rider to walk through without stooping. Everyone looked around to find Pansy with her wand out. “Oh please,” she scoffed. “That was much easier, and you know it.”

No one said anything, but they all filed into the city. The explosion had drawn a few soldiers, and Faramir and his men soon engaged them. Bently saw that the enemy soldiers had the same dead look in their eyes as the students he had encountered when he was at Hogwarts – the fairy zombies.

“Come on Bently,” said Meggie, and she pulled him away from the fights and after King and Pansy.

“Which way is the throne?” Bently asked, looking hopelessly at the maze of staircases and streets as they ran like mad.

“I’m not sure, let me check the—”

FUMP!

An arrow flew past Bently’s shoulder and lodged itself in a barrel behind him. He whipped his head around and saw quite a few soldiers running towards them, disturbing looks on their faces. Pansy ran towards them, a look of determination on her face. “Go!” she yelled back, waving her wand and making a whirl of fire. “Go get that damn vampire!”

Bently wanted to stay and help, but King grabbed him by the hood of his cloak and dragged him off, away and up.

“We’ve got to help her!” Bently yelled, angry with King.

“Pansy can take care of herself. You, on the other hand, need to get up to the throne room. It’s at the very top of the city, so if you just keep going up, you should get there.” They heard the clanging of more soldiers, many more by the sound of it, getting closer. “Go Bently, we’ll draw their attention.”

Meggie nodded solemnly. “Yeah, we can take them together. We’ll be fine, Bently.”

Bently seriously doubted that, but he just took a deep breath. “Be careful,” he said, and ran off. The last thing he heard was King yelling some sort of insult to draw the soldier’s attention, and then he was all alone.

The further and further he climbed into the city, the more quite it had gotten. “This is just like when Hogwarts got taken over,” Bently commented to himself, checking his surroundings for another staircase. “All the characters are fighting, and I’m all alone… again.”

“Are you?” asked an eerie voice from above him. Bently looked up the staircase to see three figures, two tall and one short. It was Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, but they had that creepy, empty look in their eyes too. They all had their weapons out, as if challenging him.

“You finally made it,” said Aragorn, his voice still creepy.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” said Legolas, notching an arrow in his bow.

“You’re never going to reach the master,” added Gimli.

“Or maybe I will,” said Bently, pulling out his wand. Memories of fighting Edward what seemed like ages ago flooded into him, and he was ready. “Bring it on.”

An arrow let loose from the bow and it almost hit Bently, but he dodged at the last millisecond. He waved his wand and yelled, “Stupify!” The red jet went off in a random direction, and Bently mentally cursed himself. ‘I need to improve my freaking aim,’ he noted as he dodged another arrow.

“Flipendo!” he yelled, and this time his spell hit, blasting the three fallen heroes back and off their feet. Bently charged up the stairs before they could get back up, and yelled, “Expelliarmus!” Gimli’s axe went flying off in a random direction, and Bently thought it had gotten stuck in some door. But he had Legolas to deal with again, because he was the fastest on his feet. Bently sent spell after spell at him, but Legolas just dodged, and Legolas send arrow after arrow at Bently, but Bently blocked them with Protego, save a few close calls which he dodged. He got a lucky shot in and Stunned the elf though, but when he turned around, he found himself toe-to-toe with Aragorn.

Before Bently even knew what was happening, there was hot pain on his face and he was on the ground, trying to figure out how he had gotten there. Aragorn loomed over him with a curved elf knife in his hand, and Bently’s blood on the blade. Without thinking, Bently waved his wand and the knife came down towards his chest. “Duro!” Aragorn froze into stone just as the knife was inches from Bently’s chest. Panting slightly, Bently slid out from under the statue and stood, looking for Gimli. The dwarf was still trying to pull his axe from the door it had stuck in. Bently, feeling a bit drained, merely set the Leg-Locker Curse on him. ‘Well, he won’t be able to do much with his legs stuck together,’ Bently thought, continuing on his journey through Minas Tirith.

He didn’t meet anyone else as he climbed the final staircase and came out at the top of the long sort of walkway that overlooked the city. Bently felt really drained so he sat on the ledge, looking down at the city. The lower levels were in chaos, but he thought he saw more people wearing Rohan armor fighting, so he was content. “Maybe we can win this thing,” he told himself, and then he picked himself up and headed for the giant closed black doors of the throne room.

The doors were locked, and it took an “Alohomora!” to get them to open. Then they were very heavy, so Bently felt ever more tired when he had finally gotten in. The hall was completely black except for the sliver of light that came in from the door. “Lumos,” he muttered, and his wand tip lit with a small light. The black was frightening, and Bently really didn’t want to venture into it. Especially if there was a prissy vampire fairy inside.

Suddenly, the door snapped shut, and Bently jumped and turned about three feet in the air. “Bently McQuinn, you’ve come at last,” said a gruff voice, and just on the outside of his light, he could see the outline of a tall, thick-looking person. “So, you got past my guards?”

“Yeah, piece of cake,” said Bently as coolly as he could, suddenly conscious of the blood on his face and wondering if that was drawing the vampire to him. He hoped not, but doubted that hope.

“You honestly think you can win against me?” the vampire asked. “I, Emmett Cullen, am the strongest of the vampires.”

“You mean fairies?” Bently asked snidely. “Too bad though, I’m gonna kill you.”

Bently felt a breeze behind him, and he whipped around. Emmett retracted swiftly, hissing. “Don’t like the light, do you?” Bently asked, beginning to piece things together. He pulled out Gryffindor’s Sword, and brandished his wand light. ‘I need to weaken him, but does the Horcrux Medallion reach…? Maybe some kind of light will do it,’ he thought. He brandished his wand again, and Emmett continued to hiss, lashing out with his hands. ‘What the hell is the most powerful light in Lord of the Rings?’

And then, like some kind of magic, like… writing, the words hit him. “Accio Eärendil!” he yelled, and he thought he could hear a swishing noise from somewhere. But Emmett’s hand caught him and he went sailing through the air with an “oof,” losing his wand and sword. Then Emmett was running at him, fists clenched in fury…

But there was a crashing noise, and through one of the windows shot a very, very bright light. Emmett had to hide his eyes from it, but Bently caught it, and pick up his nearest weapon, the sword. The elf light was brighter than anything, and lit up every crevice of the hall. It reduced Emmett to the floor, struggling away from Bently. He hissed harshly as Bently approached him.

“Eat dust, fairy,” Bently said, then stabbed Emmett with the sword. With a scream, Emmett burst into black dust that sparkled in the elf light. And there was nothing but Bently, the light, the dust, and his heart, thudding in his chest.